


A Cat in Noir

by NeoCatNight



Category: Furry (Fandom)
Genre: Cats, Detective Noir, Detectives, Drama, Drugs, Fem, Film Noir, Furry, Mystery, Original Character(s), Original Fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-09
Updated: 2020-10-09
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:40:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26903761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NeoCatNight/pseuds/NeoCatNight
Summary: Struggling detective Kuro gets an unexpected visitor late in the evening. A white cat in a red dress. Though she speaks a language he cannot understand, she leads him on a dark, suspenseful mystery.





	A Cat in Noir

She snuck into my office, late in the evening. She spoke a language, smooth and curvy in a husky and sexy voice. The language of love.   
Unfortunately, I didn’t know a lick of French. She either said, ‘I’ve been searching for a cat like you,’ or, ‘your hair reminds me of the hairball my nephew once upchucked’ for all I knew.  
I watched as she delicately made her way to my desk in red, high, high heels. Heels too high for her weak legs. Sadly, her ankle snapped, leading her tumbling onto my shag carpet.   
I reached for my lighter while she brushed herself off like this was her routine.   
Making it to my desk without another spill, she took a seat. I was glad she took the left chair and not the one with the stack of papers. Seriously, It would have annoyed me to watch her ass crumple up my case notes.  
Successfully embering my Smokey Cat cigarette, I offered my dragon statue lighter to her. She shook her tiny head, whipping away the ribbons of smoke dancing in the air.  
I wondered what a classy cat like her would need from my office in this dumpy part of the city. Her cloud white fur made me suspect she belonged to a high class family. Her tail swayed mysteriously, like a brush painting a haunted picture. The tight dress she wore was red and regal. A hint of royalty, a hint of danger.  
For ten intense seconds, we locked eyes. Her sharp crystals of moon yellow pierced my sight. She chose to break the silence, speaking her tongue while baring pearl white fangs, “ça fait longtemps.”  
I pretended to know what these words meant to myself. She might have been calling me fat, but I doubted. Look at me. I’m fur and bones.  
The other word, longtemps. Wondering how a temperature could have length, I grew the suspicion like I’ve met her before. The familiar draw I felt resonate from her resembled every other time I admired a woman. Yet, her charm and her cherry scent felt foreign.  
No good. I hadn’t a clue what she was saying. Some detective I am. I put my claw to my black round ear and shook.  
She grew an impatient sneer. Her button black nose wrinkled as she bit her pink liquorice tongue. Raising a hand, she dug her claws into her dress between her cleavage. From within the cave of wonders, she fished out a folded, yellowed paper. Tossing it on my cluttered desk, she stood and winked.  
Snatching the paper, I watched her turn and mosey out my door, admiring her playful butt wiggle as she disappeared.

Well that was one way to end the night. The two things the mysterious lady left behind were this note and her intoxicating aroma.  
The note, folded twice like a sad excuse for origami, it looked to be the last means of communication with her. Part of me wondered if I had to wait to open it, but curiosity killed the cat.  
Folding the fabric free, I saw letters and numbers in muddy ink. ‘The Pride Land. 9990.’  
An invitation to what was the mystery. Either for a wild time, or to my last dance. I should have waited. I had to wait till day break to run this address and make sure it was no elaborate trap. I couldn’t be too careful after today.   
The night grew old, it was past my bedtime. I had to head home. Home being the room to the left. Yeah I lived here. This century old office accommodating for my workplace, dining room and crying spot. The grandfather clock tisk tisked like a disapproving coworker, my papers occasionally fluttered away from the breeze of my desk fan and the ominess sprinkling of rain on my cracked shutter window were my company. Switching off my bedazzled desk lamp with the green shade, I shuffled into my room.  
The broom closet was my bedroom. Flicking on the oil lamp hanging from the crumbling ceiling, I flopped onto my unmade cot. I let out an overdue groan from the long day of stress. Staring up at the poster on the ceiling, I reminisced over the bell busting case of this past week. We couldn’t be sure if we got the right guy or not, it was in the past anyway, hopefully.  
Pulling off my dress socks, my mind insisted on figuring out who the girl was. The note, the language, the allure, eventually I had to stick my white nose in the matter, otherwise the next few nights would be sleepless.  
In my drowsy delirium, I made a loose plan for tomorrow while I removed my black fest, white dress shirt and black dress pants. I figured out who to call while I got into my pajamas.   
Pajamas being my birthday suit.  
The mystery girl’s identity would be revealed, either that or I forget her like I always desperately try to do with girls I admired.

CHAPITRE 2

My phone outside rang. Its impatient chimes hammered at my nerves.  
Rising from my cot like a zombie cat, I threw on some undergarments and stumbled out to the office.   
Fetching the blocky grey telephone, I held the speaker to my ear and moaned, “Detective Kuro at your service.”  
The voice of the cat I planned on calling in the morning grumbled through, “We got a situation brother.”  
Just what I needed, clinging onto an hour of sleep. Collapsing into my spinning leather chair, I huffed, “What would that situation be, Detective Biggs?” I heard him scrummaging through papers on his line. While I waited, I examined the yellow note again.  
“Dead girl, The Pride Land 9990.”  
If I had coffee, I would have spat it over my papers. Instead I choked on my spit. My arm grew weak holding the note with the same address.  
“Can I fetch you?” Biggs begged.  
Fighting not to choke on my tongue, I nodded, which was a pointless gesture for a phone call, “y-yeah sure bud.”  
The line ended. I dropped the receiver back on the block. A sickening feeling crushed my stomach. A feeling I knew too well.  
Trying my best to stomach it, I slipped on the same pants, shirt and vest from my room. From the office I pulled off the beaten and worn leather long coat, hanging disturbingly from the coat rack by the door. Too many times during the late night did I believe the rack was a burglar leading to it getting its share of beatings as well.  
The grandfather clock tiressly ticked. I paced over to the towering mechanism, watching its hands twitch ever so slightly. I couldn’t stay still. Ambling over to my window, I looked to see which rain drop would win the race. Biggs, the old bastard couldn’t get here sooner.

At last I heard his rumbling engine cruise to a stop out my door. Slipping on my coat, I headed out, eyeing the backwards lettering on the warped glass. ‘AlleyWay Detective Agency’ not much of an agency. Just me, Biggs and Judy who never showed up.  
I pulled open the door. Inevitability the top caught onto the ceiling bell letting it jingle.  
The jingle indicating the arrival of a child making a report for a lost doll, an elderly cat forgetting where he parked his car, or a mystery girl who had a way of worming into my mind.  
The rain poured, like the most inconsistent faucet, creating the most difficult game of dodge the water.  
At the end of the superstitious sidewalk waited the ancient Victoria car, a few too many miles on its meter, a few too many t bone accidents. It’s silky black paint job blended into the dark wet midnight. I could only see it from it’s one headlight. A cyclops of automobiles. Biggs better replace that soon, he wouldn’t want a ticket from himself.

Biggs fit snugly in the driver's seat. An old white and tubby cat, like Santa Claws. His bowl full of diabetes was wrapped in a nice black sweater and an eaten up grey trench coat.   
His hourglass shaped head pressed on the roof of the car, squishing his dull steak knife ears.  
Despite his size, he sat comfortably in his seat since he had no tail to worry about sitting on.  
As I peered in, he gave me a grin like a teddy bear and spoke warmly.  
“Sorry to wake you up so early.” He apologized, pointing to the twin cup holders in the dashboard, “I got your favorite.”  
Steaming in the right holder waited a mocha with caramel cream.   
I slumped into the chewed up leather seat and pushed in the extra hanging from my coat so it wouldn’t be caught in the door when I closed it. Shutting the door with exhausted force, I got comfortable in the seat as the leather on leather squeaked like prey. I thanked him for the drink, taking it. As he shifted gears, I took a generous sip as not to burn my dry tongue. The mocha tasted stale, like my life.

“You look like you’ve seen a dog.” Biggs worried, turning down the street.  
I shook my head, resting my cheek on my palm, “just… tired.”  
Biggs nodded, reassuring in some way, “This job won’t take long. Sounds like a suicide. We’ll check the place out while the cops tag em and bag em.”  
I couldn’t keep tonight’s encounter a secret. If she was the same girl who I was about to meet dead, I had to ask, “Who is she?”  
“Not sure.” He sighed, turning on the brights, “In the meantime, eat something”  
He elbowed to the gift box of blue and red spirals. The signature name of the bakery on top. Also a nice gesture on Biggs’ part, but I knew why he had these.  
When I looked at a donut, it looked like the number zero, as if it tried to say ‘this is how many of me you should eat.’  
To Biggs, when he saw a whole row of donuts, they looked to be saying ‘Oooooo eat us all!’  
I said with a sarcastic huff, “You gotta commit to that diet.”  
With a chuckle, he teased, “Only until you stop smoking!”

We cruised down this street with no street lights but plenty of billboards stamped on the walls of the sardine packed buildings. I saw an ad for the nine lives casino like eight times lit up in electric bulbs. The buzzing yellow light beamed off the reflective rain as miniature artificial sun rises. A quiet yet shocking night representing a change.

The car stopped, this had to be the place. The smoke black evening raced to life in red and blue lights, spinning on top of every police car. A whole station parked outside the front doors of a massive building.  
Biggs opened up and molded out the door. The car tilted back, released from his weight. From between his seat and the stick, he fished out a folded black umbrella. I waited while he shut his door, unfolded the shade and made his way to my door.  
I opened my door to hide in the cover with him, “thanks.”  
“Of course brother,” he said with a doofy smile.  
Rain pattered on the top of the umbrella, playing an off key beat. The lights and sirens of the cars made this the most uncomfortable rave I’ve ever been to.  
The building towered and tilted, like a pyramid upside down. Cobbled together in muddy green bricks seen in a mutant’s hideout, rain crawled down every window like the structure cried from a thousand eyes. The Pride Land Apartments, read the stone arches.  
I’d never seen a complex so… complex. Whatever haunted history this structure hid was a mystery I would refuse to solve.  
The reason why we were dragged down here greeted my eye from the highest point. A body hung dramatically by the rails of a balcony. An almost fallen angel. I couldn’t tell who from down here. Time to head up.

Me and Biggs sandwiched into one sliver of the glass revolving door, awkwardly squished together for about five seconds until we slipped inside. Once I tried to hold open a spiralling door for an old cat. Almost broke both my arms. Never felt comfortable around those types of contraptions again.  
The reception room needed a renovation urgently. Every stormy night had a way of seeping into this swampy little hole. Mold leaked out from the corners of the tasteless regal green wallpaper and the red scratchy carpet had more than its share of caked mud. A musty aroma greeted my nose, definitely not good for my health.   
The right waited a cluttered desk with a single security officer. To me he looked like a street cat someone pulled off the road, gave him a suit and said, don’t let other street cats in here. He might have had issues deducing who was street of not however. He gave us this ugly, grimy sneer and grumbled, “Your fat cat friend is at the top floor. Use the elevator.”  
Biggs never grew rude back. Whenever mild conflict happened, he would hold a soft harmless face and talk softer, “No need to bare the fangs. We’re the police. We’re doing our job.”  
The officer dropped the defense to show a real emotion. Kicking his shoes to the desk he grumbled, “Having a whole herd of the fuzz just got me a little on edge is all. I’m the only guard in the whole building.”  
I understood and I knew Biggs did too.   
We saw the steel shutters for the elevator on the left wall along with room labels rising up to the ceiling. The building held ten thousand rooms alright. Unfortunately the room labeled nine nine nine zero rose to the very corner out of my reading view. Had to find the identity of the dead girl to hard way.  
The elevator stumped us. Inside the levitating shark cage were buttons to the floors. However none were labeled traditionally. No one, no two, no eight. The space keys had labels reading riddles like, Decayers, Flora and Herbivores.  
Biggs retracted his claw with a disconcerting grin. Eyeing out the shaft, he waved to the security officer and called, “hey bud, the top floor?”  
With a yawn, the officer answered, “Secondary Predators.”  
The top key was labeled the same, so Biggs stamped it hard.   
An electric surge sealed the steel shutters. A second after, gravity pushed us down. 

The ride stopped with gravity reversing. For a moment I felt lighter than air. The shutters opened and I was greeted with the same ugly wet wall paper. The only difference being the mold smelled fresh. Along with the damp spores was the familiar smoggy taint like road tar. Stepping out, an old fat cat the security officer mentioned encountered us.  
“My boys.” Greeted Chief Burns.  
He was a tough cat, seen his share of murders, participated his share of cat fights. He had the shapely form of a beer keg on stubby legs and stubby arms. If anyone needed a diet more than Biggs, it was Burns. In his crooked teeth he puffed a fat cigar, glaring at us with a permanent wink. A gnarly scar sealed his left eye, but he didn’t mind the impaired vision. His wounds made him scary. Kids would always ask for the stories on how he received such scars.  
He spoke like he had twenty frogs in his throat, “This might be the second chance for your little agency, boys”  
Burns had a way of striking my nerve. I held back a yell and formally said, “Chief I’m almost seventy percent positive we got the nip guy.”  
He scoffed, puffing an impressive ring, “I always made sure it was a hundred. Anyway you two need to find the room number.”  
I found it strange how he didn’t find the room number yet, then I noticed the label to each door in the hall. Fixed in every small plaque were equations and pictures more complicated than a simple number. Each plaque had a Egyptian cat hieroglyph and a college level equation. The hieroglyph had to represent a column of rooms while the equation had to be deduced into a more specific clue. Never was good at math.  
Basically, the plaques were a puzzle me, Biggs and Burns had to narrow around to find the room with the reason why he came. I could have said in explicit detail how we did this for an hour but regardless, we found the room. Its plaque showed a black cat hieroglyph with a math problem offering a lot of nines and zeros.

The door was unlocked. Not busted open and not picked as far as I could tell. The resident of the room either left her door open for three reasons. She forgot to lock the door, was too lazy, or invited us in. Maybe I could have given more reasons for example, but whatever. It’s late and I’m not a math teacher.  
The cold breeze of the night slithered its way into the home. Hard to tell if there was a break in or not. This was a nice crib. Snazzy to say the least. I wouldn’t describe it as a diamond in the rough, more of a polished stone in a mud pie. The door led straight to an open concept bedroom. Blue silk pajamas and red satin sheets, the perfect fabrics for romance, the worse for winter. A nightstand to the left held an open wine bottle, a glass and a black box. The red walls hung movie posters and paintings I didn’t recognize. The kind of paintings with one simple streak of red on a blank canvas that went for ten thousand something dollars.   
The source of the cold blew from the left.   
Big open glass doors led out to a one step balcony. An invitation for a dramatic suicide.   
She clung to the rails, resting like she lost the energy to jump, if she meant to take her life. A black cat, short, thin and petite. Like me if I were a girl. Fur like a spill of pepper. Her white nightgown slow danced in the breeze as if her spirit desperately wanted to depart.  
It wasn’t the mystery girl. In an oddly sick way, I was relieved. The yin to the mystery girl’s yang. Finding her identity was the same.  
I asked Biggs if he could put her on her bed.   
He barely nodded, curling his lips. Poor fellow seen this a thousand times and each held the same pain.  
He took her skinny hawthorn branch of an arm and hoisted her over his broad shoulders. Tall guy had to lean down under the door frame to bring her back.  
Resting her on the deathbed, something flaked off his beefy palms. Her fur molted. Bad luck.

My turn to examine her. As I stepped to the bed frame, I saw her stomach rise and fall.  
Like a livening shock, I witness the girl rise. She stretched out her arms and cracked her back with a yawn. Rubbing out the gook from her drowsy star silver eyes, she glared at us.   
“My my.” She mumbled in a voice like sleeping beauty, “three boys in my bedroom? That’s a new record for me.”  
Me, Biggs and Burns stood jaws to the floor. The angel never fell.  
Collecting myself, I informed her we were the police and we believed she was dead.  
Biggs nodded sternly, taking a whiff of the wine glass. Gasping he said to me, “Recognize this scent?”  
Lifting the glass elegantly with two fingers, I inhaled the earthy and alluring odor I grew familiar with last week, “Nip?” I scoffed, dropping the glass, “I thought we got rid of the source.”  
Biggs bent over to retrieve the glass, shaking, “We got the wrong guy.”  
The girl shuffled to her bedside and stretched her toes in her stockings, “How’d you find me?”  
I answered, “we got a tip” which was true in a different way for me. The mystery girl brought me here to this near dead woman. I had to bring it up in some way, “Do you know anyone who would do this?”  
The girl snatched the wine bottle with a smirk. Ferline Parti was the brand on the bottle. I heard her whisper, “purrrfect.” to herself before answering, “Smells like someone drugged me.”  
Biggs began his interrogating method, “Did you get into the wrong cat fight? Somebody send you this gift?”  
She bit her black lips reaching for the box at her nightstand, “My rich, snooty family is always making enemies.” She hissed, unboxing a stash of cigars, “My name is Callie.”   
She spoke like this was a game. I was a bit relieved to hear her taking her supposed drugging so well, yet I sensed something else.  
“Hey kitty,” she purred at me, “you seem tense, cigar?”  
I didn’t think I should accept, but I felt the need to play along and take the edge off.  
She handed me a stiff, leathery smoke with the red ribbon labeled “Street Cat Steam.”  
Next to the box on her nightstand, she took a purple glass bottle I thought would be perfume but turned out to be a lighter.  
Setting the end alight, I breathed in the cigar’s roasted taste like a freshly paved road. It made me gag.  
She giggled, lighting her own, “You like playing detective, kitty?”  
Holding back a cough, I said, “Well I try.”  
“Be careful who you trust,” she warned, puffing a ring, “Suspect even yourself.”

CHAPITRE 3

It was a day like any other, except it wasn’t. What Callie warned to me last night would have kept me up if I wasn’t sleep deprived. It bothered me all morning however.  
After my cat shower in the bathroom upstairs from my office, I put on my sharp black gumshoes and dark blue dress pants. I heard the office bell jingle as I put my white polo shirt over me. I jumped out of my bedroom to find last night's angel waiting. Callie.  
She donned black baggy trousers, a white blouse, buttoned low to show off a fair portion on her flat chest and heeled boots clicking with each step on my shag carpet.  
Her lips glowed blood red. She flirted with me like the devil flirts with death, “Hey kitty. You miss me?”  
I huffed, “I’m not in the mood for cat calls.”  
“I brought alcohol.”  
“Alright come in.”  
While she surveyed my sad little hole, I dropped to my desk chair and found my cigarettes.   
She rested the bottle on my desk, freeing both hands to snoop through my belongings.  
I was all fine with her taking the place in, but she really didn’t need to rifle through my mini fridge at my desk side, “Some detective you are. Where’s the leftover Chinese food?” She teased, taking a seat in the chair with the now crumpled papers, “Well at least you got the nicotine addiction on point.”  
“I’m not addicted.” I growled, lighting up, “I just need to have a smoke every day to not go insane.”  
This gave her a chuckle. I played it off by asking why she came.  
“I didn’t thank you purroperly last night.” She said, tearing off the wrapper on the bottle top, “Plus I have a feeling my stalker might be-.”  
The bell rang once more. I couldn’t believe my sore eyes.  
It was her. The mystery girl.   
In the daylight, she glowed like a spirit. White fur radiant, her moon eyes shining like new suns. Her gold silk dress glowed with the sunrise. The silhouette of her curvy figure could have been the last thing a man would see before dying happy.   
She locked eyes with Callie, her smug, cool expression crumbled into a sharp scowl. A wild cats instincts came out, seeing the other woman in my office.   
Regardless, she waltzed in on flat dress shoes without heels. Next to Callie, she took the seat without the papers.  
I couldn’t find any good words to say, doubting she would understand me. With a lick of her pearl fangs she spoke the same line.  
Callie didn’t scowl back, she smirked to me with an offer, “I studied French last year. I will be your translator.”  
I said I would like that very much, gesturing the mystery girl to keep talking.  
Lowering her icicle ears, she spoke that dark, beautiful language with a hint of impatience.  
“Her name is Luna.” Callie translated, popping the cork to the wine bottle, “she says she knows you.”  
While I dug into my checkered history with women, Callie offered a swig to Luna.  
The French lady huddled back into her seat and hissed at the offer. She talked again, more urgently as if she couldn’t redisappear sooner.  
I gave up on my memory. Not sparing any time, I asked her, “Why did you lead me to that apartment?”   
Her voice became more strained, desperately trying to hop over the language barrier.  
“She wanted to warn you.” Callie told me after taking a swig.  
Many questions flooded my head, all could be answered if I had one word. I didn’t want Callie to hear this. I leaned over my desk to whisper a simple yes or no question, “Do you know her?”  
Luna took my shoulders and said something more complicated than a ‘wee wee’  
Callie grinned, speaking through her fangs, “She says she had no choice.”  
She let go. I fell back into my chair, my ears folded back at the disgrace of what they heard.  
Shaking the fuzz out of my head, I nudged a finger to Callie for her to give me a hit.  
She handed the bottle over for me to take a pained gulp. The sting of salmon oil and harsh chemicals dulled my senses, taking my focus away from the girls for a mere second.   
Luna gazed frantically at the two English speakers with a fang on her tongue.  
I hung on my chair, deciding whether or not to tell Callie her stalker might have been sitting inches away. I could have made her step out of the office, but before I raised a claw, Luna shot out of her seat like lightning.   
With a forced groan, she spun over my desk to pull me by the scruff of my shirt.  
I hung at her mercy, wondering if I had to take this as a threat or not.  
Her diamond pupils cut into mine as she held me up to her eye level. She raised a fist as if ready to deck me in the jaw, but pointed to the door.  
Letting go of me, she marched to the center of the room, spun back and wafted her arm in a circle.  
I got the hint. Standing up I told Callie to stay and enjoy the rest of the liquor. I needed to have a private talk with a woman I was too dumb to speak to.

Outside the door, the rain ceased to fall. The flood of last night made miniature rivers in the streets, all flowing to the drains. The potency of everything wet hung in the lukewarm air. A calming scent like a rainbow to the nose.  
Billows of deranged clouds clung to the highest buildings, mocking artificial mountains. The storm wasn’t planning on leaving town. The clouds’ scowls signaled to strike tonight.  
My private time on the lonely walkway with Luna was short lived. I couldn’t call it a conversation without words. She pushed her chest onto mine while digging into her cleavage. I guessed she liked stuffing clues in there as a sort of alibi bra. She took out a pink paper to crumple it into my fist. Leaving a heavenly kiss on my cheek, she whispered, “Au revoir.” in my ear before disappearing into the mist like a real spirit.

The trance casted from her lips left me standing until I lost sight of her. A truck rolled by, kicking up a wave of dirty water to snap me out of it. The paper in my fist was clutched safe. I uncrumpled it to read it’s invite, ‘Dance Le Blanche” a swanky club hidden somewhere in this dumpy part of the city.  
She was a suspect, my only one, and she was leading me around her own case on a leash.  
The bell rang behind me and the opposing cat to all this tapped my shoulder. I flinched and turned to see her smug look with a hint of frustration. She pushed the bottle with hardly a drop left into my stomach.  
“Purrobably the worst date I’ve been on.” She quipped, flicking my nose, “How bout I give you a second chance tonight?”  
I had two dates now. A fair improvement from my average of zero. I should have said I had plans but I heard her out, “pick me up at seven tonight” she ordered stepping back, “I’ll take you to my favorite.”  
Giving her a dull nod, she smiled and turned, slapping her bullwhip tail on my nose before moseying up the road. As the glare of the sunrise melted her out of my sight, she called, “I’ll see you around, kitty. Feel free to stare at my butt like you do.”  
I guess I subconsciously did so with Luna. What can I say? I like butts.

CHAPITRE 4

The clock ticked to six thirty. I best been getting Callie. The thing is, I didn’t really own a car.   
My lack of transportation was possibly one of the reasons girls didn’t go for me. Girls liked hot rods, I thought.   
No matter, I had to places to be today and I had one option for a car. Picking my phone, I called Biggs.  
The other end rang and rang again. Please pick up.  
“Detective Biggs, at your service.” He answered.   
I said it was me and I needed to borrow his car. He asked why and I said I had a date with Callie.  
Hearing a forced laugh from a distance, he scoffed, “Thought you swore off women for really reals this time.”  
“It's… case related.”  
I heard his throat rumble before he said sure, come over.  
“Thank you so much, man!” I cheered, hanging up.

Preparing to head for his office, I put on my favorite black dress pants and matching shirt along with a black corduroy suit. Out of style perhaps, but always classy.  
In the upstairs bathroom, I fixed my mess of spiky black hair until every lock was slicked back. Glaring, I pep talked myself like I usually did before dates, “You got this. Who’s the cat? I’m the cat. Who’s the cat? I’m the cat!” Not like this was a date though. It was case related.  
From the mirror cabinet, I put on this old birch wood cologne over my chest. Couldn’t go smelling like tobacco. I had to fight the urge to light a smoke as I usually did when I was stressed.

Biggs lived a few blocks away. I could walk there. Heading out the door as good looking as physically possible, I strolled down the superstitious sidewalk. The sun set behind me, blazing the street in fading gold. A promising wind blew through the canyon of buildings. I felt things were going to end well. The angry clouds cleared and calmed. Rain wouldn’t ruin tonight. It might have actually been starting to feel like summer.  
I arrived at a closed down antique shop. Biggs' apartment hung above. I headed up a shambled stairway in the alley to reach his front door. Knocking on the concrete with the gold letters AlleyWay Detective Agency 2, I looked down to see the old black car hidden underneath a tarp. He really liked that car but trusted me not to wreck it.  
Biggs answered with the key ring in his claws. He wore baggy black sweatpants and an ugly Christmas sweater for some reason. It was caturday so I guess he was relaxing. He tossed me the key. It hung on a ring with a bird keychain.  
“Listen kid, I know you want this to be your second chance on the nip case.” He started a parental lecture, “Don’t blame yourself though. I thought it was Lune Minuit as well.”  
“Everything pointed to him.” I insisted to myself, “almost like we were led to him.”  
“You be careful with that Callie character,” He warned, “She’s quicker than you.”  
I didn’t want to know how to take that but I nodded. I wasn’t in the mood for a ‘what are you saying?’ sort of argument. I was going to run late.  
He helped me unravel the tarp to reveal his beauty. This thing needed a new paint job, and new shocks, and Biggs needed a new car, but it would get there. I was fond of it too.  
Jumping inside, I adjusted the driver seat. I asked myself how the heck a cat could be so tall, then wondered harder how the heck I was so short. Remembering how to drive a stick, I turned the crooked key, placed my foot on the clutch and switched the stick to first. As I rode off, Biggs acted like I drove over his foot. Fool me once, hare dare you. Fool me twice, I’m an idiot. Fool me ten times, what is wrong with me?

I headed down the street on close to bald tires. The billboards for the casino didn’t shine as much in the last daylight. Only a few minutes before the bulbs shined.  
Callie. Had to be honest, I didn’t know what to make of her. What Biggs said was right. She was quicker than me, fairly harmless though. A tease and a flirt. Much was to learn of her and tonight I would learn. She was nice, she was pretty, but she didn’t draw me like Luna did. Not yet anyway.

Made it to the reverse pyramid apartment complex in one piece. Not any traffic on the streets which was nice and unexpected for saturday. I wouldn’t complain. Driving in traffic made me nervous and I can’t be nervous now.   
Heading inside the reception room, the officer from last night hung out by the desk. He gave me a nod and I nodded back. Awkward acknowledgement of existence aside, I called the elevator. From within the steel seal, I could hear the cage shamble down. Hopping in, I recalled the top floor labeled as Secondary Predators. Odd name. Some weird aesthetic choice.  
I could feel wetness under the arms of my shirt. My tail cowered between my wobbling legs. I had to do my calming ritual again without the soothing help of cigarettes. Breathing in through the nose, I closed my eyes and breathed out, repeating to myself: I’m the cat, I’m the cat.  
Been a while since I’ve been on a not date. Last time didn’t make me nervous. Couldn’t figure out what made today different.  
Stepping out of the lift, I had to redo the puzzle I refused to describe to find the hidden room again. After about twenty minutes, I found it. The door was unlocked and open a crack but I knocked without entering. I heard some stumbling on the other end before the door swung open.  
She pranced out in dress pants similar to mine with a black buttoned leather jacket and a hot red scarf. Casual for a midnight stroll. With her silver shadowed eyes, she checked me out.  
“My, aren’t you a classy gentleman.” She commented before snickering, “The only thing missing is a fedora.”  
Wasn’t sure how to take that, but I would keep it in mind. Never was one for hats. My hair wouldn’t allow it. Brushing it off, I asked where to.  
She said it was a surprise and we were taking her car.

Outside, we made for a red hotrod with a foldable roof. The glittery headlights and its curved grill made the vehicle smile on this lovely day. The wheels shimmered with silver spinning rims. A jaguar of the road.  
I was parked two spaces away from this beauty and didn’t give it a thought. Fancy piece, probably cost more than what I made in a year. She did mention she belonged to a rich family so her dad might have not cut her off yet. I felt a little embarrassed by the fact she had this and I had nothing. At some point, I had to save enough money to buy something with four wheels.  
The grey fabric roof moved on its own and stored itself in a compartment by the trunk. Nice interior. The clean seats were stitched with a grey fabric sweaters were made from and the dash and stick were silver. Callie took to the dish lid sized wheel, so I hopped in the passenger seat. I guess I was okay with her driving. I would hate to wreck her baby.

She cruised down the street with the billboards and reached a road by the beach side. The black ocean, while still being a decent place to relax in the summer was littered with trash on the white shore. As polluted as the ocean was, it still offered a fair contrast from the filthy city. I would probably take it easy there as soon as the case was resolved and as soon as it started to feel like summer. The moon rose from the still black waves. The perfect ball of white cheddar rippled its seven reflections on the ocean flat. It would be a half hour or so until the sun shined its last rays for today.  
When she picked up enough speed, her wavy bush of black locks fluttered like a high speed storm. My hair had too much product to flow with the wind. She appeared to be enjoying the upcoming evening. Guess she liked an exciting life, or as exciting as the city could get.  
We passed the beach, heading for the casino advertised seven times on the same street.  
The glowing neon tower was the highest point of the city, both in actual height and in popularity. Alot of cats gambled their lives away here, a lot of shady deals happened as well. I’ve never been but me and Biggs drove past it a couple times. Loud place. We could hear the music booming from in the car. The tower curved like a fish tail, glittering in blue neons and lit up with fireworks on special occasions. The nine lives casino was like a big mirror, all its windows resembled silver scales.

She took me to the casino restaurant. Jack Cat Thicks. A snazzy place decorated in hot colors. The tables were cool blue, the sofas hot red. The checkered tile slipped under my shoes and I could see my reflection on the steel frilled walls. A little cold in here but I was warmed by the zesty smells of grilled chicken and shrimp. Callie ordered a table at the check in counter.   
The cat at the counter didn’t resemble a host, he was dressed more like a disco king. Rad shades, hair like an atomic bomb explosion and a suit with three eye sore colors. “You’re waiter will be Felix!” He cheered.  
We were seated next to this elevated mirror stage like a dance floor. Some teen was singing his heart out to a jazz song I didn’t know. Maybe it was karaoke night or having random customers show off their talent here was normal.  
I never knew what to say at first. I spoke what was on my mind, quickly blowing it, “I didn’t expect someone like you to enjoy a place like this.”  
Her tail flicked at the comment, she gave me a frustrated smirk and said, “What do you expect from me?”  
“I’m not sure.” I flustered, losing my cool for a moment, “You feel like a puzzle more confusing when put together.”  
“Well let me pick up the pieces.” She started, resting her elbows on the freshly waxed table, “My father owns a wine company, he’s French. My mother is German and she… well I don’t enjoy acknowledging her existence. If I were a dog, they would call me a mutt.”  
I nodded, taking this in. I guess owning a wine company made your family wealthy, but I couldn’t understand how this made enemies.   
She tilted her head and wondered, “What about you?”  
Never liked talking about myself. Mostly because there was never a lot I enjoyed telling, “I don’t remember my parents.” I mumbled, “I can only recall an orphanage, a horrid nanny and Biggs.”  
Her smirk disappeared when I said this. She was going to say something before the waiter interrupted.  
Holy crap, he really did look like Felix the cat. A classy old suit covered his ink black, detail lacking fur and his eyes were big and white like the cartoon. This was a theme for the restaurant. Every waiter and waitress was costumed as a famous cat. Across the stage, I saw Garfield and by what looked like a gift shop, I saw Mehitabel. You know, from Shinbone Alley. Had a crush on her when I was smaller.  
We were handed menus and left with tall glasses of water. Me and her silently browsed the entireties. I contemplated ordering a chicken or tuna sandwich. Didn’t want to spend too much on myself because I knew she was going to order the most expensive thing here.  
“You like milkshakes, kitty?” she broke the silence.  
Blushing, I answered awkwardly, “Well… you know I like butt wiggles.”  
“I meant the beverage, idiot.”  
“Oh, yeah.” I stammered, finding the milkshakes on the menu. Fourteen dollar milkshakes and she was ordering two for us. Sweet cheese and crackers.  
“Listen, I’m sorry to hear about your… past.” she said.  
“Thanks,” I sighed, “Forgive me if I have trouble trusting anyone.”  
“You must know.” she whispered, taking my hand, “I would never lie to you.”

We arrived back at her apartment a few hours later. It was about ten thirty now. I hoped I wasn’t going to be late for the second date at Dance Le Blanche. At her door she held me and said, “That was definitely one of the better dates I’ve been on.”  
This was so relieving to hear. I didn’t blow it as much as I believed, yet only half my night was over. I nodded and said I was glad she enjoyed the evening.  
She moved her face closer to mine, pressing her lips together.  
I moved closer as well.  
I ended up kissing a cold fabric. When I opened my eyes, I was being smothered with a hat.  
“Got you a fedora at the gift shop.” she laughed devilishly, “How bout you come in and have coffee.”  
Felt a little late for coffee, besides I had a plan. Hoped she would understand, “I should go, I have a… doctor's appointment at the dentist.”  
“If you say so.” She sighed, turning to brush her tail across my nose, “I’ll see you around, kitty.”

CHAPITRE 5

I arrived at the club. The dome glowed in crisp reds and candy pinks. I felt like I shrunk into a cherry. A smoothie of rich aromas tickled my nose. Potent perfumes, expensive wines and muddy cigars. I would have lit a smoke of my offending brand if I brought the pack.  
I saw a few lonely business men at the round tables in the way back. The ones open waited in the front and center.  
The stage resembled a huge clamshell drifted in from an ocean. White like sand and ruffled like a tide. The show hadn’t begun but the stage wasn’t bare. I saw two cool cats practicing their instruments.   
I was brought here for a reason, along with my own. If it wasn’t a bother, I would ask the two a few questions.  
Adjusting the fedora on my head, I took a seat at the very front and raised my hand. To my surprise, the two greeted me cheerfully.  
The old cat on the left with his saxophone had a face of a raisin. Never did he open his eyes, he only smiled gleefully with a powerful squint. He spoke with a scratchy yet charming voice, “Ay we’ve been waitin for ya to show up!”  
Guess all this was too coincidental. I asked if they knew Luna.  
The other cat on the keyboards sang with a snappy and lightning quick tone, “Luna is the star of tonight. When she sings, everything is alright!”  
I couldn’t see his eyes through his round and rad shades. He gave me this star bright smile of gold fangs. Reminded me of the check in cat at the restaurant.  
The identity of the mystery girl slowly unraveled. I would be seeing and hearing her soon. A shame I had to say this, “She’s a suspect in my case.”  
The sax man cooed sarcastically, pulling back chewed up ears, “Boy you can’t suspect every gurl who looks at you is on yo case!” He chuckled, fiddling with the keys on his gold instrument, “I for one neva let things git to me. Sometimes they might get to me but dey don’t get tuh me.”  
The keyboard player flicked up his dazzling purple fedora and sung, “Luna makes a man sing to the sky. She’s pure, innocent, wouldn’t hurt a fly!”  
Difficult talking to these two. I leaned back and stopped trying with them. They were quick with the tease and the defense. Guess they knew her well. I could only see for myself with the performance.

The chair cushioned my butt quite nicely. I could see myself using this for an office chair, lounging in it for hours. Draped in a cream pink cloth, the table offered a cute little wine bottle submerged in a small tub of ice. Ferline Parti. Salmon oil and lavender. I saw this brand somewhere else but I couldn’t remember where.  
By the vase of lilacs, waited a pamphlet I decided to browse through.   
‘Welcome to the white dance.’ were its beginning words in a spirally font. ‘Tonight you will be graced with a good drink and a great song.’ I’ll say, this wine was as expensive as they came. If the drink was only good, I couldn’t wait for the show. ‘Sit back and relax as we waltz you into a trance from heaven.’

I regained my attention when the lights dimmed to a mysterious purple and a nightly black. The shadows dancing on the dome reminded me of a restless ocean. The atmosphere made me feel I was swimming in a sea of wine.  
The red curtains behind the two cool cats spread apart, to reveal the die happy silhouette. A light from above blared more powerfully than the light of day. There she was. Luna in the red dress I discovered her in last night. Her fur shined like glitter, putting the light to shame. Her silky long locks swirled in a bun held by chopsticks. A rosy color blushed across her soft cheeks. In heels, she sauntered to the front of the stage where a microphone zip lined down from the unseen ceiling.   
The cat in shades played a soft melody. Delicate notes echoed through the cherry dome.  
The older cat fluted a wavy and sorrowful melody. Haunting with a lick of funk.  
Luna sang. Her voice, strong yet fragile. Powerful and soft. A hopeful lament of strength and love.

You had plenty money, 1922  
You let other women make a fool of you  
Why don't you do right, like some other men do?  
Get out of here  
Get me some money too

She stepped down from the clam shell, making her way to me. She pulled on my tie to bring me closer as she tenderly whispered her song. Her voice, her touch and her smell brought me tingles.  
From her dress, she laid down a red note with white letters. The third tug on the leash.

You're sittin' down and wonderin' what it's all about  
You ain't got no money, they will put you out  
Why don't you do right, like some other men do?  
Get out of here  
Get me some money too

The trance came to its end. She disappeared behind the curtain.  
The few in the audience clapped, whistled, and wept. I did a little of all three.  
I stood and picked up the next clue as the shadows washed back into the calm red and pink. As the audience made themselves scarce, I held the note in a good light, deciphering a poem.

Alibi washed away like perfume in a cold shower.  
Convicted I am, never understood.  
Drowning in false justice, my only hope.  
But hope yet, an angel in noir I must seek.

Holding the paper, I asked the cool cats the meaning of this. No one else received a paper as far as I paid attention.  
The old cat stowed away his precious instrument in a black case and laughed, “Luna has a way with words unlike any other cat. Those smart enough may invite themselves into her room.”  
The keyboard cat cracked his long fingers, teasing, “Recently, someone snuck into her room without stealing in the night. If you can decipher the code, you’re in for a lovely night. Hear that? I rhymed night with night. I’m that fly, alright?”  
Their way with words only piled onto the riddle. This poem appeared to be a code to her private room. I had to find its meaning if I wanted more from her.  
The cool cats packed up and strut into the curtain with swag. That was the last I saw of them. I was left alone in the dome to find my way.   
I took in as much from this scrap of paper as possible. The words, the fabric, the smell. The first letter of each line was written in a deep black ink. 

I noticed a lonely door to the left by the clam stage. A single flood light made the door pronounced as if something was saying to me ‘this is your path...idiot.’  
It had to be a staff room. I couldn’t have been allowed to waltz in, but the cats told me the smartest were led to her room. I saw no other door, so I pushed the bar open.  
In the round, empty and creepy room, I found another door. A door with a gold chain and a padlock. Examining closer, the lock could be released with the correct number code. Not a letter code, but I still had the suspiton the letters on the poem were the key.  
Putting the pieces together, I could hear music through the walls. A faint stringy guitar. Disturbing in some way. I could have said the room smelled like wild goose, so I did.   
The first letters of every line. Ay, see, dee, bee. I didn’t pay attention in school much but I knew this was not how the alphabet worked. I decided to associate the letters to the order they were placed in the alphabet. One, three, four, two. Turning the wheels to this number order, the lock clicked and released from the chain. Enjoying the rush that came with puzzle solving I latched off the chain, breathed in and opened the door.

I found myself in her private room. She waited in the spinning stool by her big, star struck vanity. I appeared to have walked into a small makeup room where I would peak in and say ‘five minutes till curtain, miss Luna’ but in the far end I saw a royal and regal bed. She might have lived here. The lights on her vanity were busted, so a tall lamp with a paper lantern shade lit the room a velvet, ghostly aura. My nose was in a sensory overload. Her cherry perfume greeted me along with the hint of roses and cosmetics. The girliest mix of scents.   
She was as beautiful as ever. Not much had changed from when she stood on stage, only her hair fell down. Angel’s hair like a clean ocean around a paradise island. Her red dress glittered in the ghostly light. Concealed and mysterious in the glow, bright and ready for a party in the dark.  
She was a woman of few words I could understand. In a voice as silky as her fur she spoke something in French I wished to know.   
Shaking my head helplessly, she stood from the stool and moseyed backward.  
When she rested at the bedside, she opened her legs quickly before crossing tightly. In that split second of leg crossing, I saw something I probably shouldn’t have. Lowering her eyes, she wiggled two fingers at me in a come hither motion.   
Happily coming hitherer, she wrapped her legs around my waist and pulled me in by the tie. As I choked on a noose, I fell on top of her chest as she fell on top of her bed.  
Cherries and champagne intoxicated my senses, along with an earthy, unsavory smell. A faint hint of something awful I hoped I wasn’t actually smelling. While I hoped to be having a stroke, I noticed a mirror shine between the bed and the wall. A plastic shine.  
I made the motion to pet her head while I reached for the plastic sticking from the crevice. Pulling the loose end freed a baggy filled with evidence. An ounce of nip.  
My heart thumped on her’s. As much as I wanted to ignore it, this needed to stop. She was the guy. 

CHAPITRE 6

I pushed myself off her, holding the evidence in the purple light. A sealed container of the addictive drug responsible for hundreds of fallen cats. The smoking gun gleamed in my hand. My body shook, I grit my teeth and growled, wondering why the hell it had to be this way.  
Maybe she wasn’t the source, but she was one carrying, capable of poisoning Callie. I saw her, pupils dilate, makeup burning off to show her true blush. She shook her head frantically, tears lacing off her butterfly lashes.  
Piercing my tongue, I shouted, “Where’d you get this?”  
She whined, shaking harder.  
“Did you drug Callie?”  
She gasped, wiping away tears.  
“Talk damn it!” I begged.  
“Nonononononon!” her tongue flicked.  
Throwing the bag in my pocket, I breathed, forcing me to say, “I have to take you in.”

I put the cuffs on her delicate wrists. Outside on this night of change, I put her into the passenger seat of the victoria car. She hated this. The weak, vulnerable look on her soft face killed me. Like a lost kitten in a cruel world. I hated this more.   
Dropping into the driver side, I headed for the station.  
I hoped this wouldn’t last. If she could communicate with the cops, they could understand and find out if she was working for someone or was set up to do this. Either way she still would have to do time. A sweet, beautiful girl like her didn’t belong in a cell.  
This did not make a grain a sense. Why she would drug Callie of all cats, how a singer got her hands on nip and why she led me on to convict her. None of this had any logic.  
When she came in this morning, the look she gave Callie, like hatred. There had to be history. Callie did mention her family had enemies, but I had a hard time understanding how you made enemies with a foreign singer.   
What Luna confessed in front of us two. She had no choice. She had to drug Callie for some reason. Revenge, disposing or self protection. Callie was a tease but nothing dangerous as far as I knew.  
She had to warn me. I had something in all this. I worked on the nip case last week, believing I solved it, but here I had an ounce in my pocket.

Here was the station. I almost wanted to stall time, but this was part of the job.  
The police woman waited at the desk. It was Judy. She was a bigger cat, well fed. When I stepped in, she pushed down her thick square glasses and glared with oval sized pumpkin eyes. Seeing her always gave me a chill of past guilt. My history with her was as checkered as her orange and white fur pattern. She didn’t look pleased when I stepped in with a girl in cuffs, or maybe she was. Her face was always hard to read.   
Trying to avoid the usual, ‘well look who it is’ speech, I whimpered, “Judy, can you find a translator and interrogate her?” I begged, “She was carrying.”  
Tossing the newspaper she read, she screwed up her face and huffed, “Kuro… are ya shore you have the right cat?” She interrogated like he did with her thick accent, “You neva could read women well.”  
“I’m doing my job!” I barked like a dog, “And no, I’m not sure. That's why I need help understanding her.”  
Judy stood from her seat to make around the desk. She brushed off the crumbs on her white blouse and tight grey skirt. She was dressed like a librarian, her uniform encasing her short, stacked figure, “Guess I should show up for work more often.” She said, taking Luna away from me, “I could do a betta job than you and Biggs combined.”  
Before she was carried away, Luna took my hands and begged softly, “Please.”  
If only she could talk to me like how she sang. I moved her hands away and promised, “You can talk to Judy while I chase a lead.”

I didn’t have a lead.  
I did nothing but drown myself in booze. Back at the office, I broke out my stash of scotch under my bed. Burning out my third cigarette of the night I stumbled around, swearing and chugging my dumb asshole juice. I rued the day I decided to be a detective. The office turned into an ugly blur. My fizzled mind wouldn’t forgive me for throwing her in that cell. No matter how much I drank, I could still see her.   
No justice was served tonight, or maybe it was. I couldn’t know, I was in too deep to know which way was up in this case. On one wobbly leg, I might have caught Callie’s stalker or some cat crap excuse, on another, so what if Luna was a stalker? I’ve been with worse.  
In my spinning stupor, I threw my case notes off the desk in a spectacular blast.   
A happy little jingle caught my ear. Turning around, I saw some fizzy figure at the door. It was Callie, the Maltese Feline who got me into this mess. She might have been wearing her black jacket and pants or nothing at all, it was hard to tell. She gave me this look like… something negative. I was too drunk to make up a clever analogy plaguing this story.   
I slurred angrily, “Why are you strutting in hic here?”  
Smiling a fake smile, she whipped out a gun from her jacket. She pulled the trigger, spraying me with cold sobering water. Unloading on me, she cackled, “How dare you get plastered without me?”  
Waggling my face dry, I said, “I got your stalker… or somebody.”  
“Luna?” She wondered.  
With a painful sting I said yes.   
“Purrfect.” She hummed, taking the scotch out of my claws, “I knew she had skeletons under her bed.”  
I was still in a daze, but what she uttered sounded odd. I was going to ask her to repeat herself, but she pushed me to my desk, whispering, “My hero. You saved the day.”  
If only I could believe that.   
Untying my tie, she offered me tenderly, “How about I show what I wanted to do the moment I saw you.”

The railroad spike stinging through my skull woke me up. Rising painfully from my cot like roadkill, I recalled what happened last night.  
Callie appeared to be gone..  
I felt a little better, but along with my hangover, I still couldn’t shake the crushing guilt in my stomach. Think I needed to throw up.  
After an hour and something of medicating the ache. I shuffled around the torn up office, putting the evidence together. My room was a mess, broken bottles of scotch, scattered papers, like a tornado ran through.   
I found the ounce still in my pocket after the clean up. As if clinging onto the last of my nine lives, I analyzed this little bit of green.   
Nip was a funny drug. The earthy and wild scent soothed many. The aroma had a way of drawing you into its abusive grasp. Every cat found the scent pleasant, not me nor Biggs or Burns found it foul. You could only have the intelligence to resist. I never indulged but I read when you took a hit, it brings you to a magical meadow where time didn’t matter. Worries didn’t happen and problems never existed. You would pass out from the trip for hours later.  
Signs of long term abuse were loss of balance, loss of inhibitions and molting fur.  
The same fur issue as Callie.  
I could recall what she said last night. Skeleton’s under Luna’s bed.  
The bottle she left yesterday was still here. Shattered, but I could make out the brand. Ferline Parti. The same brand I saw at the club and her apartment, spiked with the drug. I could have been not thinking correctly, but certain threads were connecting in strange ways.  
I had to see her again.

I had to give Biggs his car back, but I had one last trip for it.   
Back at the complex, I rushed through the parking lot, into the reception room, said hi to the security guard and rode up the odd elevator.  
At her door I knocked and waited five seconds before losing my patience. The door was unlocked again. She really should worry about break ins. I pushed the door open and didn’t find her in the bedroom nor out the balcony. I would have seen her outside if she was out there.  
Perhaps she was out, but here I was. I shouldn’t have been here without permission, but I needed answers.  
She wasn’t sleeping in the red satin bed. I checked under the pillows and the mattress itself. I found a picture of her and some older cat under a pillow. Under the bed were her shoes, nothing more.   
The night stand with the cigar box held the spiked wine bottle. I searched the drawer of the stand to find empty plastic bags. I thought to be the same meat sealing bags the nip was held in. It could have only been plastic easily found at a convenience store, but still. Covered by the plastic was a leather notebook. Her diary, or an ex book, I couldn’t be sure until I opened it. Folding open the cold leather, I found names. Luna Minuit and Lune Minuit with X’s crossed over.   
The mystery girl and someone related. Callie was keeping tabs on the family.

A door opened to the right. Callie emerged from a steaming room. She wore only a towel and gasped at her unexpected visitor. I could have explained why I was here, though it would have done me no good. Instead I turned to business, “How did you know the nip was under Luna’s bed?”  
Fluffing out her wet head, she choked on her tongue, “Was not expecting a visit!” She stumbled, shuffling over to the kitchen area with the wine rack, “Wine?”  
“You know, I seem to find that wine wherever I go.” I announced, “Tell me more about your daddy’s wine business.”  
I could see her tail between her legs, “You’re… kinda freaking me out.”  
I held the leather book in my fist, “Explain to me what these notes are.”  
She scoffed with a belittling glare, “Are you playing detective kitty?”  
Throwing the notes on the bed, I gave an angry growl like I’ve never done.  
Finally, Callie scowled back and broke, “It’s not like I had a choice! Luna’s family owned my daddy a lot of money. I had to collect their debt, but instead I tried to get her and her father in jail, so they didn’t get their tails cut off.”  
Well this was more than I was expecting. I was getting a confession, a real confession. Processing this all, I still wondered, “The night I found you hanging off the edge…”  
“I’m hooked.” she admitted, wiping off a few loose furs, “I’m sorry for picking on your smoking habit, but I’m hooked on this stuff.”  
“Take me to your father.” I ordered, “He’s the source.”  
She dropped her defense, returning to the friendly act. Stepping to the opposite end of the bed, she warned, “He will skin you alive.”  
“I have to fix my mistake.”

She had to take me to the source, her father. She made herself decent in a white dress shirt and blue jeans. We took her car. I had to trust she would take me to where I needed to.  
This was difficult. I was forcing her to help me arrest her father, but she didn’t resist like I expected. She agreed to the trip just fine. The part she kept mentioning was how much danger I was in. “I was only trying to protect Luna, you know?” she insisted   
“By stalking and setting her up?”  
“Yes!” she hissed, “It’s safer in prison than in the hands of my father.”

Guess this had to be the place, or Callie brought me to an abandoned nowhere to assassinate me. A beaten and run down factory with rusted letters reading Ferline Wine. Three cylinder chimneys rose into the smog filled sky, giant’s cigars. Pyramids of barrels stacked up to the smoke black walls, each barrel was stamped with the label on the front of the factory. Mixed with the harsh odor of pollution drafted the faint hint of the poison. The front offered shutter doors like a world war two aircraft could land inside. The shutters appeared to be the obvious way in, but I doubted I could pry them open. Besides, Callie said she preferred the back door. That's not what she said last night. She was the bad guy but I had to trust what she told me. She was right, I didn’t know what I was getting myself into. Tugging my arm, she led me down an alley between the factory and a nameless building. In the wet city canyon where scraps of paper danced about like my nine lives leaving me, I found a pay phone. Finding one of these was harder than finding a chunk of gold in a litter box. Just what I needed actually. Stopping her, I fished out a few spare coins from my dress jean pocket to get a call. I stamped the number of Biggs on the sticky key pad. The less than sanitary phone rang a dull tone until he picked up. In a fluster I said to him, “I’m gonna need some backup. I found the source.”  
He made a spitting and choking sound like I caught him enjoying a martini, “You’re kidding?” he croaked, “I’ll- I’ll get Burns. Don’t do anything crazy just yet.”   
Couldn’t promise him but I nodded in agreement. Again an unnecessary gesture of a phone call, “Thanks buddy.”  
I hung up. Time to do crazy crap.  
Callie took me to a door with the warning sign: Trespassers will be neutered.  
Jokes on them. I pushed on with her into an open, cave like bunker. A heart of evil. Barrels stacked to the high ceiling, creating a drunken maze. The wine smell lingered powerfully. I could get a buzz staying here for an hour. I perked my ears, hearing a leak echo somewhere and a vent blowing. No pawsteps, I couldn’t be sure if the place was abandoned or not. I asked her where we were heading and she said to her dad’s office.   
I didn’t have the relief of trusting her. This didn’t exactly look like a business man’s empire. She hasn’t been lying to me these past days, only straying from the whole truth. She took the lead at one point, peeking out the corner we were about to round. Standing on her toe beans, she said this was the way. As I followed along, I heard a faint splash from behind. Before I could turn, I felt a cold metal pressed against my back. A nasally voice bossed me, “Where ya think yoor goin’ toots?”  
Callie twirled back and gasped, “Boston, we’re here to see daddy. Don’t hurt him!”  
Whoever named Boston ordered me to face him, so I did. He resembled a rat more than any cat. His long crooked face sneered with the most hideous of fangs and the sickest of eyes. In his yellowed claws shook a revolver powerful enough to pop a hole through me and Callie. Waving the gun so carelessly, he escorted us through the maze.

We were led to a door atop a balcony overlooking the maze. Boston knocked and told the person on the other end he had visitors. Without a response I could hear, Boston opened up and kicked us inside with double jointed horse legs. With the door slamming behind, I took in the view of our prison. An office, like mine, except not at all like mine. Bigger, cleaner, resembling more of Callie’s apartment. The purple carpet was like an artful wine spill. The walls reminded me of a museum. Ahead waited a desk bigger than the door frame, making me wonder how they got it in. The chair behind the desk spun around and there he was. Exactly the guy in the photo under Callie’s pillow.   
He resembled me if I had more testosterone. Black with graying fur, like salt and pepper. His red suit caught my eye, apparel I couldn’t afford. It’s fiery dye represented power and fear. On the desk was a label with the name Don Feral.  
Callie stood in front of me, tail between her legs, fur in a frazzle. She stuttered weakly, afraid of her own father, “H-hi daddy! I can explain.”  
Don’s eyebrows were too thick for me to see his eyes, but I could feel a cutting glare. He was soft spoken, almost like he had laryngitis, “Callie, you brought a flee to my sanctuary.” He wheezed, rubbing his ring bedazzled claws, “I thought I could trust you with getting my money. No more nip for you.”  
Callie balled her fists and spoke powerfully, “I'm not gonna be your debt collector while you dangle nip on string. Look what you’ve done to me!” She grabbed my shoulder, boasting, “This is Detective Kuro and he’s not afraid of you!”  
Man I wish she didn’t say that. I was very much afraid but I didn’t have to be for long, “Give up Feral!” I shouted as bravely as I could, “I got back up coming!”  
Just as I heard this, I hear a huge commotion outside. Cars screeching, a stampede of boot steps and gunshots. The door swung open to Boston shrieking in a panic, “Baws, the whole fuzz is here!”   
The boss fanned his paw telling Boston to bug off, in his other paw he revealed a black pistol.  
Feeling that intense surge of adrenaline pass and since he didn’t fire immediately, I reached into my coat pocket, showing I was armed as well.   
A cluster of stomps approached from behind. I believed it was an ambush of goons on his side while Feral must have thought it was a group on mine. His finger twitched and fired.  
Callie screamed and jumped in the way.  
I didn’t feel a bullet pierce through me as far as I knew, but Callie collapsed to the floor.  
The door burst open and in rushed Biggs and Burns wielding their signature pistols.   
I released my black glock and pointed at the Don along with Biggs and Burns.   
Three against one, Feral had to surrender.

So much happened so fast. When Feral dropped the gun, Burns ran up with handcuffs to arrest the criminal.  
Biggs pat my shoulder and congratulated me on solving the case.  
I ignored all this and fell to Callie.  
She was breathing when I held her in my arms. Her white shirt was soaked in a red dye. A burning hole cut through the center her stomach.  
Holding her as gently as I could, I wondered, “Why did you do that?”  
In her strained panting, she still pulled off a smirk and a quick quip, “Why not?”  
Biggs said he would get an ambulance and headed out while Burns dragged out her father, the cat who shot her.  
Holding her breath, she huffed to me, “I was wrong about you. You really are a heck of a detective.” she breathed her last, “I’ll see you around, kitty.”  
I begged her to stay with me. Her eyes fell and her body grew limp in my arms.  
No. Not Callie.

CHAPITRE 7

“Excellent work, kid.” Chief burned patted my back, “Couldn’t have done it better myself.”  
In my office along with him and Biggs, I rested in my chair, not knowing what I was feeling. The two helped out quite a bit cleaning the office up. It never looked better, but I didn’t care. Something felt missing. A bare corner near the door, a gaping hole in my heart.  
Biggs rested in the opposite chair consulting me like he used to when I was small, “We did the best anyone could do. I know things didn’t pan out the way you wanted, but things are much better now. I hope you know that.”  
I guess there was some truth, but I never felt an emptiness after a case like this. I wondered why I became a detective.  
“You look off, kid,” Burns commented, reaching into his pocket, “Cigar?”  
“I think I’ll quit smoking.” I said, taking the deepest breath.  
The door opened. It was Judy in a getup similar to last night but with opposite colors. Black blouse and black shirt. She stepped right to the desk to hand a letter to me. She spoke as calmly as her accent allowed, feeling sympathy for me for once, “Luna and her father are free now. She wanted me to give you this.”  
Biggs gazed in awe, continuing to encourage me, “You saved her family, son. You really are a hero.”  
“Thanks Biggs,” I said, regrettably opening the letter. These were Luna’s words in a fashion I could understand, daylight clear. The last words I would have from her.

I know you, Kuro. I saw you arrest my father for a crime he didn’t commit.   
He got himself into trouble with Don Feral, but he was never a criminal.   
I gave you the address to the mutt who had been stalking my family for months.  
I had to swallow my grudge on you because I knew you wanted a second chance.  
You were the only one who could fix this.   
Unfortunately, she was one step ahead of me and got the better of you.  
In your lost wake, you allowed yourself to fall and give her what she wanted.  
Regardless, everything worked out in the end.   
Me and my father are free and now must leave the city.  
I hope you can rest, knowing you have found yourself.  
Good luck, Black cat.  
-Luna Minuit

FIN


End file.
